


Moonlight

by Lenticular



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenticular/pseuds/Lenticular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tenzin has an odd dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I'll level with you, dear reader. This was written on a challenge from my partner. I, uh, am not going to accept blame for it, in other words. It's set, as should hopefully self-evident, at the end of Tenzin's relationship with Lin.

When dinner ended and Lin left, it was a relief for both of them. Lately, it seemed, they had spent their time together as long silent pauses, interrupted only with brief bursts of awkward conversation. Tenzin readily accepted blame; he had been… distracted.  
  
It was simply that when Councilman Amak had told him that he wished to introduce Tenzin to his protegé and successor, Tenzin had expected, well, a younger version of Amak.  
  
Not the smiling, handsome young man who had trailed Amak into his office, garbed still in traditional Watertribe clothing, his long hair beaded artistically into three tails. He had expected a bespectacled secretary, not a consummate diplomat; someone who stammered slightly when excited as Amak tended to, not a man with a voice made of persuasion and honey-warm humour.  
  
Tenzin had, frankly, not expected Tarrlok.  
  
He didn’t stop to watch the ferry set off for the mainland. It was no matter; Lin didn’t linger on deck to wave at him, not anymore.  
  
Instead he made his way, lost in thought, to the men’s section of the temple complex, to the peace and serenity of his bedroom, pinching the bridge of his nose between tired fingers. That practiced smile lingered in his memory stubbornly.  
  
“Good night, Tenzin!” one of the acolytes called just before he stepped inside.  
  
He glanced back with a distracted smile and a vague, “And to you, Pema,” before entering the tranquil interior. The well-known scent of paper and incense enveloped him, soothed the tenseness of his shoulders, but did nothing to shake his mind.  
  
He prepared for bed in a daze, throwing a last look out the window - at the glistening line of the city beneath a waning crescent moon - before lying down and letting his eyes fall shut. His mind drifted with the gentle rush of the waves and the musical noises of the wind chime outside.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, one of his walls was a gleaming sheet of water, the full moon shone through his window and he wasn’t alone in bed. He sat with a jerk, realised he was dreaming at the very moment he recognised the shadowed figure kneeling before him.  
  
Long hair, dark and thick, falling unbound over broad shoulders. Tarrlok’s skin gleamed with silvery lines, as if he was standing in a pool, the ripples casting light over the dusky planes of his body. Unthinkingly, Tenzin reached for him, and he obeyed; absently the airbender wondered if this was what Tarrlok would feel like in the waking world, all smooth warmth.  
  
“What do you want here…?” Tenzin said, his voice hoarse and hesitant even in his own dream.  
  
“You know what I want,” answered Tarrlok, his voice somehow even more honeyed, a purr creeping up Tenzin’s spine.  
  
The kiss tasted of cool water and felt like hot silk, and Tenzin dug his fingers into that perfect dream-vision skin, dragged Tarrlok closer, twisted him ‘round, pressed him back. Dark silver-lined skin, contrasted against the unbleached white of his own sheets, and eyes blue, blue like the moonlit sky outside. Tenzin almost imagined he could see stars.  
  
A naked thigh pressed against his clothed hip, a slim, well-tended hand - oh, were they that soft, that perfect in real life? - curled in his collar, and then his night clothes were gone, lost in dream-logic, and he pressed his skin to Tarrlok’s.  
  
This time, _this_ time the kiss tasted of ocean water, salty and foamy, and slim fingers cradled the back of Tenzin’s head, keeping him close, inviting him with touch and parted lips. He couldn’t help a moan, and Tarrlok responded with a sinuous roll of that wiry body, silvery lines glistening and shifting, undulating over his skin in time with his muscles.  
  
“I want to—” Tenzin stammered.  
  
“Fuck me?” Tarrlok said, all heated persuasion, and the stars in his eyes sparkled and faded and burst back into existence. His hands, soft and smooth and fine as trickling water flowed down, grabbed Tenzin’s rear, pushed, and Tenzin was inside him, sheathed to the hilt.  
  
Shifting a trembling hand himself - so graceless compared! - Tenzin brushed his fingers over a sharp cheekbone, around a challenging eye and the curve of a maddening smile, through thick chestnut hair, over silver-lined skin to brush hesitantly over the velvety hardness pressed between them.  
  
Tarrlok’s moan was something half-wave, half-wind.  
  
“Please,” he whispered, and the smooth heat was lost in something desperate, needy. “Please…!”  
  
Tenzin obeyed his dream-vision, the unspoken wishes of his own mind, and drew out before rocking back in hard, felt the tight, hot clench, the friction that made his vision flicker like ripples in water.  
  
Tarrlok threw his head back, mouth open and wet in a wanton moan, the line of his dark throat bared. “More…!” he gasped.  
  
“Yes,” Tenzin hissed, rolled his hips, tasted the silver on Tarrlok’s neck; brief and sharp. The slim body beneath him writhed, hands grabbing and kneading and driving him on.  
  
“Tenzin!” gasped Tarrlok, and his voice broke with pleading need.  
  
The airbender grabbed the wiry hips, held him fast, and rose above him. Ocean-blue eyes, dazed with lust, met his, a dark pink tongue wetting bruised lips, and Tenzin rocked the bed with the power of his thrusts. Tarrlok cried out, arching so that the silver nearly slid off him all together.  
  
Tenzin felt a sob torn from his throat, reveled in how Tarrlok tightened around him, his thighs clenching and clinging, those elegant hands curling hard in tangled sheets, his hair a dark river flowing from his head.  
  
“Tenzin,” Tarrlok whispered, moaned, his voice gritty like brine with need and want, and Tenzin leaned down to taste the salt on his lips. The bed creaked, pounded rhythmically against the wall, the ocean roared, Tarrlok’s fingers dug at his shoulders, stars exploded…  
  
… and Tenzin woke, hips still grinding against the mattress. He barely muffled his climax against his pillow, face burning. He swore he could still taste salt, could still feel nails raking down his back.  
  
Catching his breath, he raised his head, glanced out the window. The crescent moon was gone and, dammit all, now he was wet and cold. He sat with a low groan, cradling his head in his hand. How the hell was he going to face Amak’s student in the morning?


End file.
